#slowburn - Hello Poetry

Time sits still in a dream, my skin stays lucid, quiet… too quiet. Like a body paused between moments, breath held as if waking would ruin it. Sometimes I am a movie: still frames stitching words into pictures, pictures dissolving into dreams… And these dreams— feel more real than anything I’ve lived awake. I am a romantic flick— but I’ve been more romantically involved to my fears; Dressed in soft persuasion, they linger close— whispering reasons not to try. I entertain them… let them sit too near: an affair with hesitation, that feels safer than stepping outside. We flirt with endings; death in the distance, dressed in quiet certainty; and we dress our doubts in reason— reasonable doubts, tailored thoughts, fitted just right— but what is reasonable doubt when doubt keeps rewriting the script? A reason to doubt. I can’t deny these dreams, the way they sit quiet… but alive— resting in my chest like a heartbeat waiting to be heard. Do you hear me in these words?

0

May 1

May 1, 2026 at 5:48 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Lucid in Stillness

Time sits still in a dream, my skin stays lucid, quiet… too quiet. Like a body paused between moments, breath held as if waking would ruin it. Sometimes I am a movie: still frames stitching words into pictures, pictures dissolving into dreams… And these dreams— feel more real than anything I’ve lived awake. I am a romantic flick— but I’ve been more romantically involved to my fears; Dressed in soft persuasion, they linger close— whispering reasons not to try. I entertain them… let them sit too near: an affair with hesitation, that feels safer than stepping outside. We flirt with endings; death in the distance, dressed in quiet certainty; and we dress our doubts in reason— reasonable doubts, tailored thoughts, fitted just right— but what is reasonable doubt when doubt keeps rewriting the script? A reason to doubt. I can’t deny these dreams, the way they sit quiet… but alive— resting in my chest like a heartbeat waiting to be heard. Do you hear me in these words?

22

exposed neck in a slithering climb toes elevating pluck of pouted lips sipping of my electric stasis slanted arms floating off hands reaching for ceiling stars half-way eyes a slow burn frail fingers unveiling beauty caught a glimpse glittered faces lingering on a moment longer nails brushing slender cheek smiles on par mouth-to-mouth voiceless as our bodies talk

0

Feb 23

Feb 23, 2026 at 6:06 PM UTC

flame-heart

Electric Stasis

exposed neck in a slithering climb toes elevating pluck of pouted lips sipping of my electric stasis slanted arms floating off hands reaching for ceiling stars half-way eyes a slow burn frail fingers unveiling beauty caught a glimpse glittered faces lingering on a moment longer nails brushing slender cheek smiles on par mouth-to-mouth voiceless as our bodies talk

24

slow burn ba 'to, o ilusyong ginawa ko? antagal na... antagal na nating alam ang pangalan ng isa't isa pero hindi sapat para sabihing kilala na kita kung sino ka ba talaga Ilang taon na rin ang bilang kung saan nadagdag ako sa tauhan ng buhay mo at nadagdag ka sa storya ko sa kalagitnaan nito, nag-usap tayo doon naramdaman ko na may apoy na nabuo sa halos araw-araw na palitan ng mensahe natin pero pinigilan ako ng nakaraan ko na mariin pang nakakapit sa akin noon hindi ko pinilit ang kapit at hinayaan muna ang apoy dahil hinihintay ko ang panahon na kusang pipiglas ito nang walang masasaktan sa ating dalawa Pero kumain ito ng oras araw, buwan, at taon lagi ko sinisilip ang liyab nito simula nung naging madalang ulit ang pag-uusap nating dalawa at ngayon, tuluyang binabalikan ito naghihintay at naghahanap ng paraan kung saan mapapasiklab ito muli nang malakas kaso, totoo ba 'to o gawa-gawa lang ng utak ko baka matagal na talagang namatay ang kutitap na natira sa mahabang panahon at sayo'y matagal na ring madilim at malamig ang sinindihang apoy Kaya pa kaya kung magsisibak ako ng kahoy Ipapakain sa napupunding init Upang maging malinaw at maliwanag Ako at ikaw Sana makita mo ako sa liwanag na dala nito sa sabik kong makita kita at makilala ang tunay na ikaw Hindi lang sa kamangha manghang anyo mo pero sa pakiramdam na pwede kong ialay sayo at mga pwede **** iaalay sakin Kung paano nga ba nabuo at kung paano pa liliyab ito Kung ilusyon 'to, paano ko ba ito gagawing totoo? -ousson

0

Jan 19

Jan 19, 2026 at 1:31 PM UTC

ousson

slow burn ba 'to, o ilusyong ginawa ko?

slow burn ba 'to, o ilusyong ginawa ko? antagal na... antagal na nating alam ang pangalan ng isa't isa pero hindi sapat para sabihing kilala na kita kung sino ka ba talaga Ilang taon na rin ang bilang kung saan nadagdag ako sa tauhan ng buhay mo at nadagdag ka sa storya ko sa kalagitnaan nito, nag-usap tayo doon naramdaman ko na may apoy na nabuo sa halos araw-araw na palitan ng mensahe natin pero pinigilan ako ng nakaraan ko na mariin pang nakakapit sa akin noon hindi ko pinilit ang kapit at hinayaan muna ang apoy dahil hinihintay ko ang panahon na kusang pipiglas ito nang walang masasaktan sa ating dalawa Pero kumain ito ng oras araw, buwan, at taon lagi ko sinisilip ang liyab nito simula nung naging madalang ulit ang pag-uusap nating dalawa at ngayon, tuluyang binabalikan ito naghihintay at naghahanap ng paraan kung saan mapapasiklab ito muli nang malakas kaso, totoo ba 'to o gawa-gawa lang ng utak ko baka matagal na talagang namatay ang kutitap na natira sa mahabang panahon at sayo'y matagal na ring madilim at malamig ang sinindihang apoy Kaya pa kaya kung magsisibak ako ng kahoy Ipapakain sa napupunding init Upang maging malinaw at maliwanag Ako at ikaw Sana makita mo ako sa liwanag na dala nito sa sabik kong makita kita at makilala ang tunay na ikaw Hindi lang sa kamangha manghang anyo mo pero sa pakiramdam na pwede kong ialay sayo at mga pwede **** iaalay sakin Kung paano nga ba nabuo at kung paano pa liliyab ito Kung ilusyon 'to, paano ko ba ito gagawing totoo? -ousson

48

towering shoulders disappear in your arms gentle touch of rough hands hold me clouded scent oak cologne and Marlboro smoke the allure in your eyes so film noir sinking lips a smile that kills steals my breath that spark of your words ignite my heart your slow burn i meet with wildfire

0

Jan 8

Jan 8, 2026 at 4:50 PM UTC

flame-heart

Wildfire

towering shoulders disappear in your arms gentle touch of rough hands hold me clouded scent oak cologne and Marlboro smoke the allure in your eyes so film noir sinking lips a smile that kills steals my breath that spark of your words ignite my heart your slow burn i meet with wildfire

12

Can I rest my head on your chest, and feel your heart beating for me, as we both drift to sleep — entwined, as if time had forgotten us.

0

Oct 31, 2025

Oct 31, 2025 at 3:18 PM UTC

elena217

Time.

Can I rest my head on your chest, and feel your heart beating for me, as we both drift to sleep — entwined, as if time had forgotten us.

9

They say slow burns are the worst —yet the best kind of feelings; anti-climactic, yet sporadic. Blue tick. Never here, never there. Just a cliffhanger, dangling in hot luncheon air. Maybe those are the best kind of feelings? - Ring ring -

0

Jun 6, 2025

Jun 6, 2025 at 12:06 AM UTC

ayishar

Typing...

They say slow burns are the worst —yet the best kind of feelings; anti-climactic, yet sporadic. Blue tick. Never here, never there. Just a cliffhanger, dangling in hot luncheon air. Maybe those are the best kind of feelings? - Ring ring -

17

The weather seems alright, beautiful and uptight, Sweet with less avarice, an endless horizon, and a fleeting sight. In my world, she was the weather, I could do anything, but with her, I seem to do better. Nothing seemed impossible, not even venturing through the Nether. Effulgent was her presence; enticing, her nature, The talks kept getting better and better and better, It felt like the one we were looking for was here to savor. Malicious and full of grief that once seemed as my future, Looked like a disoriented thought more than ever. I remember, Back in the day when I was wilding, Beautiful waves of comedic relief were a frequent sighting, I used to have fun and not fight, These demons, these thoughts that were always spouting, Restraining me since I always doubted (myself), But I knew there's always something, To get me started, I relinquished myself from ever doubting. Nostalgic, Thought that would be the way to deal with such things, Big mistake! Because I got apprehended, Condescending, thoughts got crazy; nobody to talk to, baby. Misdirection, mazes of maybes, intercepting, decisions hazy, On second thought, this person's lazy. Now in a field of darkness, so full of despair, I found you out of nowhere, A spark of light and a gasp for air, That's what I felt when my gaze landed upon you, That even I could prosper, even by the length of a hair. I was delighted for that came as a conclusion, For a long time, I hadn't smiled, but then I did, as if I were adhered, Sickeningly, any bond I form is doomed to fall, I fear, Regardless of how much I do, it's always a "Too Sweet" kind of dilemma, my dear, I don't easily love, but I loved you, even if it was due to my insecurities and issues, I state my mind clear, Kind of pointless to rant and yap to myself, writing paragraphs upon paragraphs, hoping you'd notice; clowning myself, makes me jeer, I guess that's how the story goes for a hopeless romantic expecting love to be simple as he was sincere. With all these melodramatic events, I reckon he could really do some improv, One such thing is doing a show, but won't it be too rough? He might become yet another one to bite the dust, A victim of emotion, A victim of trust. Life's predicament is quite harsh and if not for his experience, he'd been lost, Though sounds drastic and revolting, Giving up can also be a sign of love, A hope for emotion, A hope for trust, Thus, this lousy "Rascal doesn't dream of falling in love”. -Asher Graves

0

Apr 28, 2025

Apr 28, 2025 at 8:35 AM UTC

the_little_bystander

Rascal Does Not Dream of Falling in Love

The weather seems alright, beautiful and uptight, Sweet with less avarice, an endless horizon, and a fleeting sight. In my world, she was the weather, I could do anything, but with her, I seem to do better. Nothing seemed impossible, not even venturing through the Nether. Effulgent was her presence; enticing, her nature, The talks kept getting better and better and better, It felt like the one we were looking for was here to savor. Malicious and full of grief that once seemed as my future, Looked like a disoriented thought more than ever. I remember, Back in the day when I was wilding, Beautiful waves of comedic relief were a frequent sighting, I used to have fun and not fight, These demons, these thoughts that were always spouting, Restraining me since I always doubted (myself), But I knew there's always something, To get me started, I relinquished myself from ever doubting. Nostalgic, Thought that would be the way to deal with such things, Big mistake! Because I got apprehended, Condescending, thoughts got crazy; nobody to talk to, baby. Misdirection, mazes of maybes, intercepting, decisions hazy, On second thought, this person's lazy. Now in a field of darkness, so full of despair, I found you out of nowhere, A spark of light and a gasp for air, That's what I felt when my gaze landed upon you, That even I could prosper, even by the length of a hair. I was delighted for that came as a conclusion, For a long time, I hadn't smiled, but then I did, as if I were adhered, Sickeningly, any bond I form is doomed to fall, I fear, Regardless of how much I do, it's always a "Too Sweet" kind of dilemma, my dear, I don't easily love, but I loved you, even if it was due to my insecurities and issues, I state my mind clear, Kind of pointless to rant and yap to myself, writing paragraphs upon paragraphs, hoping you'd notice; clowning myself, makes me jeer, I guess that's how the story goes for a hopeless romantic expecting love to be simple as he was sincere. With all these melodramatic events, I reckon he could really do some improv, One such thing is doing a show, but won't it be too rough? He might become yet another one to bite the dust, A victim of emotion, A victim of trust. Life's predicament is quite harsh and if not for his experience, he'd been lost, Though sounds drastic and revolting, Giving up can also be a sign of love, A hope for emotion, A hope for trust, Thus, this lousy "Rascal doesn't dream of falling in love”. -Asher Graves

49

Your fingers begin where words are lost, tracing slow fire along my skin, like a whisper, like a promise, like a prayer only my body understands. The night hums between us, heavy, electric, breath tangled with breath, heat curling at the edges of restraint, a war we no longer wish to fight. You taste me like sin, like surrender, lips parting against mine, pulling me deeper into the gravity of you, where the world ceases, where nothing else matters. Your hands speak in languages older than time, lifting, pressing, claiming, drawing sighs from the depths of me that only you have ever known. And then— bodies collide, slow and aching, hips meeting in a rhythm carved into the universe, moans swallowed by open mouths, by shuddering breath, by the urgency of need. You bury yourself where I am soft, where I am fire, where I am yours. And I let you in, deeper, deeper, until I no longer know where I end and you begin. And when we fall—together, undone— it is not an ending, but a beginning, a creation, a devotion, a worship, where love is made, and souls are bound.

0

Mar 30, 2025

Mar 30, 2025 at 7:48 AM UTC

Kuch_baatein_khud_se

When You Touch Me

Your fingers begin where words are lost, tracing slow fire along my skin, like a whisper, like a promise, like a prayer only my body understands. The night hums between us, heavy, electric, breath tangled with breath, heat curling at the edges of restraint, a war we no longer wish to fight. You taste me like sin, like surrender, lips parting against mine, pulling me deeper into the gravity of you, where the world ceases, where nothing else matters. Your hands speak in languages older than time, lifting, pressing, claiming, drawing sighs from the depths of me that only you have ever known. And then— bodies collide, slow and aching, hips meeting in a rhythm carved into the universe, moans swallowed by open mouths, by shuddering breath, by the urgency of need. You bury yourself where I am soft, where I am fire, where I am yours. And I let you in, deeper, deeper, until I no longer know where I end and you begin. And when we fall—together, undone— it is not an ending, but a beginning, a creation, a devotion, a worship, where love is made, and souls are bound.

30

She never asked him to stay. Loving Loki was like chasing smoke—always slipping through her fingers just when she thought she had him. He would be there one night, draped over her couch with his usual smirk, spinning a dagger between his fingers. And by morning, he’d be gone, leaving only the ghost of his laughter behind. It was a game between them. He would disappear. She would pretend not to care. "Dramatic exits are your specialty, huh?" she teased once. "Would you prefer I linger?" he had shot back, tilting his head. She didn’t answer. But then came the night he didn’t disappear. Not entirely. That night, when she woke, groggy and reaching for water, she found something on her nightstand. A dagger—his dagger. The handle worn, the blade still warm from where he’d been holding it. Loki never left things behind. Her fingers ghosted over the metal. A message, a promise, unspoken. And just like that, the rules of their game changed. It became a habit. When he was gone, the dagger would stay. When he was there, it would vanish from the nightstand and return to his belt. She never mentioned it. Neither did he. But every time she woke and saw it resting there, something in her chest softened. Until one day, it didn’t return. Days passed. Then weeks. She told herself she didn’t care. That he had always been this way. But still, her fingers reached for the spot where it should have been. Empty. And that was the night she finally broke the rule. Standing at her window, looking at the stars, she whispered, “Just one more trick, please.” As if the universe had been waiting for those words, a flicker of green shimmered in the air behind her. "Missed me, darling?" She turned, but this time, she didn’t tease. Didn’t joke. Instead, she closed the space between them, pressed a hand to his chest, and whispered back, "Don’t vanish again." For once, he didn’t.

0

Mar 26, 2025

Mar 26, 2025 at 7:19 AM UTC

Kuch_baatein_khud_se

"Just One More Trick" (A Loki Story)

She never asked him to stay. Loving Loki was like chasing smoke—always slipping through her fingers just when she thought she had him. He would be there one night, draped over her couch with his usual smirk, spinning a dagger between his fingers. And by morning, he’d be gone, leaving only the ghost of his laughter behind. It was a game between them. He would disappear. She would pretend not to care. "Dramatic exits are your specialty, huh?" she teased once. "Would you prefer I linger?" he had shot back, tilting his head. She didn’t answer. But then came the night he didn’t disappear. Not entirely. That night, when she woke, groggy and reaching for water, she found something on her nightstand. A dagger—his dagger. The handle worn, the blade still warm from where he’d been holding it. Loki never left things behind. Her fingers ghosted over the metal. A message, a promise, unspoken. And just like that, the rules of their game changed. It became a habit. When he was gone, the dagger would stay. When he was there, it would vanish from the nightstand and return to his belt. She never mentioned it. Neither did he. But every time she woke and saw it resting there, something in her chest softened. Until one day, it didn’t return. Days passed. Then weeks. She told herself she didn’t care. That he had always been this way. But still, her fingers reached for the spot where it should have been. Empty. And that was the night she finally broke the rule. Standing at her window, looking at the stars, she whispered, “Just one more trick, please.” As if the universe had been waiting for those words, a flicker of green shimmered in the air behind her. "Missed me, darling?" She turned, but this time, she didn’t tease. Didn’t joke. Instead, she closed the space between them, pressed a hand to his chest, and whispered back, "Don’t vanish again." For once, he didn’t.

23

You spend more time cradling your shell, lately Coveting not the flesh of just any man But the warmth of his skin - only Tempering your own - rosy Dulling the mind - ***** And curing the heart’s lonely: ~Ahh… Hare! Suppose this must be what it means to burn — Slowly.~

0

Nov 24, 2024

Nov 24, 2024 at 5:56 AM UTC

FrankCavalo

O, Doting Tortoise

You spend more time cradling your shell, lately Coveting not the flesh of just any man But the warmth of his skin - only Tempering your own - rosy Dulling the mind - ***** And curing the heart’s lonely: ~Ahh… Hare! Suppose this must be what it means to burn — Slowly.~

9

I will admit that I struggle with what I can't give to you. It bugs me. It eats me up inside. I see the care and genuine respect that you show me and I want to react. But I can't. Not in the way I want to do so. Believe me. I want to do so much. I want to make grand gestures, promise you the world, and say the things that my heart hides. To do so, would please me, would stoke the embers of my soul. But. ..it would station your life, and I won't do that. Instead, I am focused on what I can do. It is not as if I can't show what I feel, to demonstrate it. I just have to be subtle. I am, not by choice, but by need, committed to the slow burn. I will leave you with hints; with clues to piece together. I will beat around the bush and show you the meaning of restraint. Because THAT is what I can do.

0

Oct 12, 2014

Oct 12, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC

cody-kapono-hensarling

What I Can

I will admit that I struggle with what I can't give to you. It bugs me. It eats me up inside. I see the care and genuine respect that you show me and I want to react. But I can't. Not in the way I want to do so. Believe me. I want to do so much. I want to make grand gestures, promise you the world, and say the things that my heart hides. To do so, would please me, would stoke the embers of my soul. But. ..it would station your life, and I won't do that. Instead, I am focused on what I can do. It is not as if I can't show what I feel, to demonstrate it. I just have to be subtle. I am, not by choice, but by need, committed to the slow burn. I will leave you with hints; with clues to piece together. I will beat around the bush and show you the meaning of restraint. Because THAT is what I can do.

7